


THE SOUND OF SILENCE

by Monika



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-10
Updated: 2011-04-10
Packaged: 2017-10-17 21:10:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/181198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monika/pseuds/Monika





	THE SOUND OF SILENCE

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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**THE SOUND OF SILENCE**

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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Hutch seemed engrossed in the folder in his hands when Starsky  
breezed  
out of Dobey’s office, grinning triumphantly. “Hey Hutch, we’re okayed  
for our four days  
off in two weeks. I just convinced the captain that  
you need some distraction from the job too. We shouldn’t miss  
the car  
race in San Diego. I always wanted to show you my favorite racing  
stable. Best driver is Miller.  
I’ve seen him when I …”  


“Huh?” Hutch looked up, a puzzled expression on his face. He  
hadn’t  
paid any attention to what Starsky was saying, his thoughts  still on  
the letter he had received  
that morning.

“What d’you say?” Hutch focused on his happily grinning partner and  
slowly recalled  
something about some days off and a car race in San  
Diego.

“Hutch, this’ll be great! We can  
see the show from the best view,  
‘cause one of Huggy’s cousins can get expensive tickets for half the  
price.  
We...”

“When do you plan to go?” Hutch asked.

“In two weeks, like I said. C’mon,  
you’d like to go too, wouldn’t you?”  
Pleading eyes begged for a positive answer and Starsky’s  
smile dimmed  
when Hutch shook his head.

Pulling a letter from his jacket, he said, “I got this letter this  
morning. It’s an invitation.” He unfolded the letter, staring at it.

“And?” Starsky moved  
to Hutch’s side, perching on the corner of the  
desk. Hutch cleared his throat and began to read quietly out loud.

“Hi Ken, I would like to invite you to my 40th birthday. You are one of  
my oldest friends and I’m  
looking forward to seeing you again. Please  
stay with us for the weekend ... Starsk, it’s the same weekend you plan  
to go to the car race. Buddy, I can’t refuse his invitation. Hank is a  
good friend from my childhood.”  
Hutch looked at Starsky and saw the  
disappointment in his friend’s eyes.

“You know what?” Hutch  
added quickly. “I promise I’ll go with you,  
wherever you want, the next time we get some days off.  There’s  
nothing  
better than spending time with you.” Affectionately Hutch patted  
Starsky’s thigh, not caring that  
Simmons entered the squad room just at  
that moment, sending a disgusted glance their way.

“So you can’t  
go with me,” Starsky said sadly, moving back to his chair  
to sit down. “Don’t know if I’m going  
then either,” he mumbled and  
opened the next folder, not looking at Hutch again.

Hutch felt bad also. Thinking  
about the invitation, he would prefer to  
go with Starsky, though he wasn’t too fond of car races. But with his  
exuberant  
partner there would be enough fun and he loved to see his  
friend happy. The bad times after Gunther’s assault had  
showed him the  
importance of David Michael Starsky in his life. He still had the  
horrible pictures in his mind of  
Starsky lying lifelessly on the ground  
next to hisTorino, and Hutch so sure that Starsky  
was gone.  
Hearing the doctors speak of a minimal chance of survival, Hutch had  
felt paralyzed. He hadn’t dared  
touch his partner, fearing even that  
simple act might  destroy his friend.

“So what’s about that  
friend of yours? You said he’s from your  
childhood?” Starsky interrupted Hutch’s thoughts, studying  
him with  
intense blue eyes. Hutch wasn’t sure if he heard a glint of jealousy,  
but he was pleased Starsky was  
speaking to him again.

Smiling, he explained, “Hank lived in the neighborhood with my family  
and he was  
the only kid I spent  time with. He was sick a lot, and when  
we were older we lost contact. I’m surprised I  
even got this. He  
must’ve tracked me down somehow.”

Hutch paused, thinking of the skinny boy from  
his childhood. He  
remembered he had felt comfortable with Hank, feeling unloved by his  
parents who had seemed occupied  
with social engagements and everything  
but him.

“I think I owe it to him to visit him on his birthday, and  
I can get  
there in about six hours driving time.”

“To Duluth?!” Starsky almost choked on his  
coffee.

“No, silly. He says he’s moved to Mountainridge; I’m sure I can get  
there in one day.”

“Well, let’s hope your old heap will make it,” Starsky responded. “I’m  
tellin’  
ya -- you need a new car. Don’t call me when you get stranded  
in the desert and the heat starts creeping through  
your body, roasting  
you alive…”

“Stop it, Starsk.” Hutch rose and snatched his jacket  
from the chair.

“Where ya going?” Starsky asked frowning, apparently forgetting his  
ruined vacation  
plans.

“I’ll have Merle look at my car, just in case,” Hutch said, turning  
back to Starsky as  
he left the room. “Pick me up at lunch time?  My  
treat.” Then he was gone, leaving Starsky to look after  
his partner  
like a forlorn child.

***

Hutch put the duffle bag into the trunk of the LTD, closed it and  
gave  
the washed car a pat. “Merle says you’re still good enough to make this  
trip without any problems  
so don’t disappoint me. I’m already talking  
to you like Starsky does with his striped tomato…”

“What’s like Starsky? You’re talking to your car, by the way.”

“Huh?”  
Hutch hadn’t heard Starsk approach and turned, startled.

“Just wanted to be sure you hadn’t overslept.”  
Starsky yawned. “I had  
to park round the next corner. No chance to stop here on a  Saturday  
morning. Lucky  
those who can get some more shut-eye.”

“You didn’t need to come here, pal,” Hutch said but  
his eyes told a  
different story and Starsky grinned.

“I don’t know that you deserve it, but I’m  
right here.” He opened the  
door, and Hutch slid behind the wheel.

“You’ve got everything? Maps,  
a present for Hank or whoever?” Starsky  
closed the door and motioned Hutch to fasten the seat belts. Then he  
bent  
down and whistled appreciatively.

“Wow, you’ve cleaned up your car! No styrofoam cups or leftovers from  
our last stake out.”

“Stuff it!” Hutch snorted. He put his hand on Starsky’s elbow, braced  
on the door frame, and looked at his friend.

“And you -- enjoy the race in San Diego, but stay off the race tracks.  
I’ll see you on Tuesday.”

Hutch  
started the car, then felt Starsky’s hand cup his neck and  
squeeze lightly before he stepped back.

“See  
ya!”

***

Hutch loved the morning hours. The still-fresh air and country music  
from his favorite  
radio station put him in a good mood. Life was good,  
and he was going to see his old friend Hank again. It would be  
interesting  
to hear about his life. Hutch wondered if he had become a  
lawyer like his Dad?

Time flew and except for one delay  
due to road construction and a break  
for lunch in a small diner, Hutch made good time, arriving in  
Mountainridge in  
the late afternoon. He checked Hank’s address, and  
finally reached the wide driveway to his friend’s mansion.

Though he was impressed by the large house and sprawling grounds, Hutch  
didn’t find the opulence shocking,  
knowing Hank’s parents were wealthy  
like the Hutchinsons.  
 The difference was that he, Hutch, hadn’t  
followed his father’s wish to become a lawyer, choosing instead  
to  
become a police officer. The elder Hutchinson had never  
forgiven him  
for that.

“Ken?”

Emerging from the expansive entrance, a man approached Hutch’s  
car,  
looking haggard with thinning hair.  But his heartfelt smile welcomed  
Hutch, who quickly opened the car  
door and got out, stretching his  
stiff back.

“Hank? Thanks for the invitation.” Hutch reached out  
his hand and Hank  
took it with both of his.

“It’s so good to see you after all these years,”  
Hank smiled and put a  
hand on Hutch’s shoulder, starting toward the house.

“Just a sec,” Hutch  
said. “I need my bag…”

“Oh, don’t worry, we have staff,” Hank shrugged. “John  
will get your  
bag and park your car.”  He glanced at Hutch’s car compassionately and  
squeezed the  
blond’s shoulder.

“I’m so glad to see you!” he repeated. “Let’s go refresh some  
old  
memories.”

As they entered the foyer, Hutch’s eyes took a minute to adjust to the  
dark hall.  
He noticed oil paintings on the walls, and a wide staircase  
with decorative railings that led upstairs.

“Impressive,”  
Hutch murmured, unpleasantly reminded of his parents’  
home which had a similar interior.

“Come on,  
I’ll show you your room,” Hank gestured. “Do you remember our  
game of “Hide and seek” when  
I hid under the bed and you never  
found me?”

Hutch didn’t remember but he nodded, imagining that Hank  
had been able  
to hide his thin frame under a bed quite easily.

Upstairs was another long hallway and they were  
about to enter a guest  
room when a figure emerged a room on the left -- a slender woman,  
dressed in light colors with  
a reserved smile on her face.

“This is my wife, Sandy. Sandy, I told you about  
Ken Hutchinson, my  
friend from Duluth.”  Hank  
flipped a switch and the chandelier above  
them lit the gallery.

“Nice to meet you.” Light green eyes  
appraised Hutch and a cold hand  
shook his. “We can have dinner soon. If you want to wash up or get some  
rest,  
your room has been prepared.”

Without giving Hutch time to respond, Sandy  
gave a short smile and  
immediately headed downstairs. Hank looked after her as if he wanted to  
say something, but  
then changed his mind.

Though it wasn’t cold at all, Hutch suddenly felt a chill. He couldn’t  
explain  
the sudden feeling of uneasiness, wondering if it was Sandy’s  
behavior or the dark house itself somehow. Hutch couldn’t explain it,  
but he didn’t like the feeling at  
all.

“Here’s your room,” Hank announced, opening a door. “I hope you like  
it; feel free  
to make yourself at home. I’d like to go for a walk with  
you, but if you’d rather stay here and rest until  
dinner, that’s fine  
too. It’s up to you.”

As they entered Hutch noted that the late afternoon  
sun rays brightened  
the room and made it look friendlier. Hank was making every efforts to  
make him feel at home,  
so Hutch decided to just wash up, then join Hank  
for a walk.

They sauntered along the wide paths, talking about  
the plants Sandy had  
chosen for each area. Hank told Hutch  
about his life, which hadn’t been  
easy due to his lifelong poor health. His lungs had frequently given  
him trouble,  
and Hutch remembered that even as a child Hank had been  
sent away from Duluth  
for a few months to recover from pneumonia.

Hutch asked about Sandy,  
with Hank replying that she belonged to one of  
the wealthiest families in Mountainridge. They had met during his  
studies  
for law school, and. he had fallen in love instantly. And  
though he had longed to have children, with Sandy it wasn’t meant to  
be.

While Hank went on rambling about his job  
as a lawyer, Hutch suddenly  
knew what was wrong -- Sandy  
and Hank’s marriage was sadly similar to  
his with Vanessa. He had sensed when he entered the house that  
something  
was missing, feeling it was cold everywhere -- emotionally  
cold. Hutch sighed, which Hank took to  exhaustion, then  
suggested they  
return to the house where dinner would be served.

  
Sandy  
  


 

had dressed for dinner, appearing in a fancy  
light beige dress.  
During the dinner which was served by the housekeeper John, Sandy

 

  
  
seemed  
interested in Hutch’s life, asking about his dangerous  
situations as a cop.   


Unwilling to go into details, he skirted the issue, choosing not to discuss  
the exceptional partnership he had with Starsky.

  
He thought he might confide in Hank later, but even on that he wasn’t  
sure.  
  
  
  
  
The evening passed in chats about trivial things. Hutch pretended  
to  
listen but found himself wondering what Starsky was doing instead.    
Starsky had planned to go to San Diego on Sunday, and Hutch considering  
calling ... He shoved  
the idea aside. He was a guest at Hank’s home and  
resolved to enjoy his stay and spending time with his old friend.  


Tired from the long drive, Hutch excused himself shortly after 10 PM.    
After a quick shower he dove under  
the covers, falling asleep almost  
instantly.

***

He woke up in the middle of the night, his throat burning  
like fire and  
his body overly warm. He hadn’t brought any medications with him and so  
decided to ignore the  
sore throat. He turned over and fell into a  
restless sleep.

“Ken, are you awake? Breakfast is ready.”

Hank’s voice could be heard from the hallway and Hutch stirred,  
realizing bright daylight was creeping through  
the blinds. He tried to  
answer but his voice simply wasn’t there. Hutch cleared his throat and  
tried again only  
to hear a croak. He had to fight down panic at the  
realization he had lost his voice.

“Ken? Are you okay?”  
 Hank’s concern made Hutch get up and walk to the  
door. He opened it and saw Hank’s relieved smile. “Good  
morning.  
Breakfast is ready. What do you like? We have bacon and eggs, or  
cereals, milk, toast…” Hank  
looked at him expectantly and frowned when  
Hutch tried to speak, but nothing was heard.

“Lost my voice,”  
Hutch mouthed, then felt annoyed when Hank smiled.

“Too bad, but I have some medication that will help you,”  
Hank told  
him.  “Get dressed while I go look for it. I’ll see you downstairs.”

Nodding,  
Hutch closed the door to shave and dress, hoping Hank would  
have something for his voice. He tried several times to speak,  
and even  
tried singing his favorite country song -- he finally gave up as his  
vocal cords stubbornly refused to work.

During breakfast Hutch broke out in a sweat when he realized that it  
was Hank’s birthday and he had forgotten  
to congratulate him. He stood  
up, and Sandy and Hank looked  
at him as if he intended to make a  
speech. Instead he rounded the table and reached out to take Hank’s  
hand.

“Happy birthday,” he mouthed, and Hank understood.

“Thank you, Ken. I’m glad that  
you’re here.” Hank gave him a side hug.  
Hutch had the impression that his presence meant a lot to his old  
friend. Sandy merely smiled then excused herself to dress  
for the  
birthday guests who were scheduled to begin arriving around 11 AM.

By that time Hutch had been given a  
special tea, along with some  
Tylenol so he felt at least human by the time he was introduced to the  
first guests.

“Oh, who are you? Nice to meet you.”

As he was addressed the same way repeatedly, Hutch wanted  
desperately  
to respond but the medication simply hadn’t worked. He mimed signs that  
his voice had vanished but  
was very grateful when Hank stepped up  
beside him for a time.

It was during that time a group of distinguished  
gentlemen came up  to  
congratulate Hank and to discuss the social events upcoming the next  
few weeks.

“Hank  
told us you’re a policeman in Bay City,” one told  
Hutch. “Very  
interesting. Last week I got caught because I was driving over the  
speed limit. No big deal, but  
I had to pay a tidy sum. It really wasn’t  
fair.”

Others agreed, making fun of policemen looking for  
innocent citizens  
instead of chasing real criminals. They laughed and looked  
questioningly at Hutch, obviously expecting  
a response.

Inwardly Hutch was fuming, itching to “respond” to the arrogant men  
while all efforts  
to speak had failed. He was sweating profusely and  
felt totally helpless, incredibly frustrated at not being able to talk.

Finally unable to stand around any longer, he excused himself then  
headed out for a walk in the garden to collect  
himself.

“Need some company?” Appearing from nowhere, Sandy  
was suddenly by his  
side, taking his arm and leading him through the oversized patio doors  
outside.

“Let  
me show you my pond,” she said brightly. “I’m very proud of having  
the biggest koi in our area. There  
are a lot of people who’d like to  
buy some from me but I won’t sell. Hank isn’t fond of the fish,  
unfortunately.  
He prefers sitting in his room, reading and writing  
poetry.”

A disgusted smile crept over her face and Hutch  
was reminded again of  
Vanessa, who had never appreciated his love for music – not to mention  
his deep friendship  
with Starsky. Starsk… Hutch’s thoughts went to his  
friend who was supposedly watching his favorite race driver  
at that  
time. Sandy’s voice didn’t really  
reach him; he merely nodded politely  
\-- all too aware of her continued hold on his arm.

“You’re very  
good-looking. Are you married?” That question snapped  
Hutch back to the present instantly. When he looked into her  
sparkling  
eyes he saw something that made him feel defensive and ill at ease.    
Too much like Vanessa once more.

He shook his head and she leaned into him, purring like a cat. “Yes,  
I’ve heard that many women think  
of a cop’s work as being too  
dangerous. But I love danger myself.” She looked up at him meaningfully  
and  
Hutch coughed, trying to politely remove her possessive hand from  
his arm. Suddenly he felt very sorry for Hank.

Then,  
abruptly, he smiled. “Partner – Starsky.” The words were mouthed  
and faintly croaked, but Sandy looked at him and stopped.

“You have a partner?  
Sure, cops work together… You’re work partners.    
Right?” Seeking assurance, she looked at him  
with a mixture of hope and  
desperation in her eyes.

But taking full advantage of the situation, Hutch dropped  
his eyes and  
shrugged, his expression one of apparent embarrassment at revealing his  
personal secret to her.

Pulling  
her hand back as if she’d been burned, Sandy gasped  
and stepped  
away. “You’re queer!”  she gasped.

Fighting back a smile, Hutch forced himself  
to look appropriately  
guilty at being caught. No matter what the cost, he knew he had to stop  
his friend’s cold  
hearted wife.

After staring at him for just a moment, she said quickly, “I must go  
back. I’m needed  
in the kitchen.  You can stay out here.”

Watching her scurry into the house as if he was contagious, Hutch  
smiled, more than a little relieved but sadly disappointed too. He was  
happy to remain in the now-peaceful garden,  
alone.

It wasn’t long before Hank came out, looking around until he spotted  
Hutch. “Ken, there you  
are!” he said happily.  “Would you like to see  
my hobby? Come on, let’s go upstairs. I need a break  
from that crowd.”

Making their way up the back stairs, they reached Hank’s office without  
being disturbed.  
 Once there Hank proudly showed Hutch his collection  
of first edition poems, many signed by the authors themselves.

Duly impressed, Hutch pointed at Hank and made a questioning face,  
making the gesture of writing with his right  
hand.

“What do you mean?” Hank asked, feigning innocence then blushed when  
Hutch pointed at the poems  
then back to Hank. Finally he conceded and  
opened a desk drawer to retrieve another pile of papers - done in  
Hank’s  
handwriting this time.

For the next hour the two men cherished each other’s company, as Hutch  
read and enjoyed  
his friends’ poetry. Much too soon their time ended as  
Hank stated the buffet was now open and they were expected  
downstairs.    
Reluctantly Hutch went along.

Immediately Hutch saw the curious glances being cast at him,  
and he  
knew the reason immediately. With discretion obviously not her strong  
suit, it was clear Sandy had informed their guests about Hutch’s  
lifestyle -- inwardly Hutch smiled  
. It was fine with him for he was no  
longer being questioned - and being ignored fit his mood very well.

The day  
went on, dinner passed and Hutch became increasingly ill at  
ease being unable to speak. Some of the guests eyed him suspiciously  
and he played the role of the outsider, which was exactly how he felt.    
Not being able to speak, being aware  
that Hank wasn’t happy, sharing  
the company of a woman who resembled his ex-wife much too well ...  
Hutch sighed,  
wistfully thinking of Starsky again.

Finally, early in the evening Hutch decided to call it a day. He  
informed  
Hank that he planned to retire because of his ill health. Hank  
understood and promised him to show him the area the next  
day. Though  
Sandy’s parents would expect them for  
dinner the next afternoon, they  
would have the rest of the day to themselves.  Hutch had no choice but  
to smile  
and nod agreeably.

Staring out his bedroom window at the illuminated garden, Hutch found  
himself wishing he could  
just go home.  Without his voice he felt like  
he had been amputated,  unable to participate in conversations,  
or to  
express his needs and feelings – it was the worst sensation he had ever  
known. In his condition he felt  
totally useless, not that he could have  
helped Hank anyway ... he knew from bitter experience that his friend  
had  
to solve the problems in his marriage on his own.

***

The next morning Hutch’s voice hadn’t improved,  
and he felt more  
exhausted than the day before. His efforts the previous day had  
increased his sore throat hurt and  
his cough had increased as well. As  
he got up and dressed, he made the decision he knew would be best for  
them all.

Mouthing “Good morning” to his hosts as he entered the large kitchen,  
Hutch signaled that he needed  
to write something down. When Hank  
retrieved a notepad and pen Hutch quickly wrote his message, handing to  
back to  
his friend with an apologetic smile.

“You really have to leave today?” Hank asked, clearly disappointed.  
“What about visiting Sandy’s parents? And  
seeing the rest of this place  
too?”

Well aware of Sandy’s  
noncommittal expression Hutch shrugged, his eyes  
apologizing once again. Then he sat down to focus on breakfast where  
he  
forced himself to eat two pieces of toast with bacon and eggs in  
preparation for the long drive back.

He  
couldn’t wait to leave but felt sorry for Hank who embraced him  
fiercely beside Hutch’s side, making his promise  
to come back another  
time. Sandy watched the scene with  
an unreadable smile, politely shook  
hands with him then folded her arms in satisfaction as Hutch got in and  
started  
the car. He didn’t dare look back as he headed back down the  
winding driveway -- at last he was on his way home.

***

Hutch’s heartbeat accelerated when he approached the familiar suburbs  
of Bay City after the six hour drive, only stopping for gas this time.  
Finally home! He  
wondered why he felt as if he had been away for months  
instead of a mere two days. He parked his car in front of Venice place  
and carried his bag upstairs, never feeling happier  
to be home.

Forgetting he couldn’t speak Hutch immediately dialed Starsky’s number,  
mentally cursing  
when he remembered that Starsky was staying in San  
Diego until Tuesday. He showered and changed into a pair of  
sweats then  
watered his plants, surprisingly hungry by then.

Finding his refrigerator empty, he thought Starsky  
might have left  
something behind, and before he knew it Hutch found himself driving to  
Starsky’s apartment.  
He could write a note saying he was at home  
already then they could talk everything through. Talk? He snorted  
sourly.  
No way -- his voice was still out of order to everyone.

Rounding the last corner, Hutch couldn’t believe his  
eyes. In the  
driveway to Starsky’s apartment sparkled the familiar red and white  
striped “Tomato”  
as he called Starsky’s car. Then he realized Starsky  
might well have gone to the race with Huggy’s cousin  
and simply left  
his car at home.

Hutch got out of his LTD and was climbing the stairs when a glance at  
theTorino made him abruptly stop. A pair of jean-clad legs were  
peeking out from under the  
car and they looked all too familiar to  
Hutch. Alarmed, he shouted “Starsk!” -- but no sound emerged.

Rushing  
down the stairs, he slowed his pace approaching the figure    
under the car. He nudged the exposed ankle with his  
foot and heard a  
muffled cry. Soon the body belonging to the legs, wriggled out from  
under the car -- a delighted  
exclamation of “Hutch!” made the blond  
smile.

Starsky scrambled to his feet, his face and hands smeared  
with oily  
dirt as he seemed to resist the urge to hug the blond. “You’re back and  
it’s only Monday!  
 So tell me -- how was your trip? Miss me, huh?”    
Starsky beamed at him as he fired the questions, grinning  
when Hutch  
pointed to theTorino with a questioning look.

“I had some problems  
with the exhaust pipe,” Starsky started to  
explain, then he stopped and frowned, looking at Hutch with concerned  
blue eyes. “Somethin’s wrong. You haven’t said a word.”

“Lost my voice,” Hutch  
mouthed, then shrugged.

The car forgotten, Starsky immediately concentrated on Hutch. “Let’s  
see what  
we can do for that beautiful voice of yours,” he said. “C’mon  
upstairs.”

Already moving,  
Starsky let Hutch precede him into the apartment then  
said, “I gotta grab a shower. There must be Chinese food and  
beer in  
the fridge. And there’s some frozen chicken soup from Aunt Rosie --  
that might be just the thing for  
your voice.”

He saw Hutch making a face, and laughed affectionately. “Okay, okay,  
suit yourself. Get  
whatever you want.  And hey? It’s good to have you  
back.”

After blowing a kiss in Hutch’s  
direction Starsky disappeared into the  
bathroom, grinning fondly all the way. Hutch inhaled deeply and slumped  
down  
onto the couch.

Home. Vaguely it occurred to him that he was at Starsky’s, but  
nevertheless he felt at home.  
He flipped through Starsky’s record  
collection and found one that expressed his mood perfectly. “Take me  
home,  
Country Roads,” sang John Denver, “...to the place I belong ...”

As he went into the kitchen for  
a beer and the Chinese food, Hutch  
listened to the lyrics and smiled contentedly.

“Having dinner under difficult  
conditions,” a teasing voice said near  
his ear, and Starsky leaned into him, snatching the can of beer out of  
Hutch’s  
hand to take a swig.

“Hey, get your own beer!” Hutch responded – and excitedly realized the  
words  
had come out as an audible croak. “Starsk, I can talk again,” he  
exclaimed, still croaking but making sounds.  
“Finally!”

“Well, right now I’d prefer John Denver,” Starsky teased, “but I’m  
glad  
for you. I’m used to your voice, Blondie, so take it easy and let’s  
have dinner and you can hear  
about my trip to San Diego without  
straining your voice.”

Starsky put the plates on the coffee table, and soon both men were  
enjoying their dinner, only interrupted by  
Starsky’s enthusiastic  
narration about his experience at the car race. He had been able to  
meet Harry Miller,  
his favorite race driver, but when they had driven  
along an old race track, Starsky’s exhaust pipe had become excessively  
loud.

“Hutch, you won’t believe it, but my car was making noises like a 727!  
I decided to come  
home early so maybe Merle can fix it. I was just  
clamping the loose part together again when you showed up.”

Hutch  
nodded and started to tell Starsky about his visit to Hank when  
Starsky silenced him. “Ssh, Hutch. Don’t overdo  
it. Your throat needs  
some time to heal. Let me ask the questions and you can give a nod or  
shake your head.”

Starsky smiled when Hutch nodded, and managed to learn the basics of  
Hutch’s trip. In between questions  
he got more beers until they  both  
leaned against the sofa cushions, relaxed and tired, each engrossed in  
their  
own thoughts. Suddenly Hutch sat up and looked at Starsky.

“You know what?” he croaked, then batted away  
Starsky’s hand that was  
about to clamp over his mouth.

“Let me say this -- It’s like a miracle  
that I can talk again, only  
after being back here half an hour, don’t you think?” Pensively Hutch  
looked  
at his beer can.

“I felt uncomfortable out there. There was no harmony, no happiness. It  
was like I had  
Vanessa back again. And poor Hank, he’s miserable living  
with all her coldness just like I was with Van. He was  
terrific to me,  
but it was a terrible atmosphere -- then when I woke up the next  
morning I’d lost my voice.  
That used to happen when I was married to  
Van all the time.”

Hutch looked at Starsky again. Then, blushing  
lightly, he said, “I  
don’t know how to explain it, but I know one thing -- I’ve never lost  
my voice  
with you…”

Blinking rapidly and remaining silent, Starsky reached out and pulled  
Hutch close, burying  
his face against Hutch’s chest. As Hutch responded  
he realized he didn’t mind this silence at all -- sometimes  
words  
weren’t necessary to say what mattered most.

 **The end**   
  


 

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